


Sign of Life

by Entropyrose



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, SADNESS AND FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8514913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: Matt is ready to throw in the towel. Frank will not let him. Ever. {This is written as a response to the overall feeling this horrid election has left us all with. It is written poetically, so you can take it or leave it and it has nothing to do with politics at all.}





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amaria_Anna_D](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaria_Anna_D/gifts).



> Gifted to the amazing, incredible Amaria for the blood, sweat and especially tears she has spent on giving us Fratt fans a haven to call home :) I love you <3

How many times had Matt wanted to quit? Just throw in the towel, the bully-stick, the spandex suit. All of it. How many fights had he gone home after, limping and bleeding along the way? How many had he really won. /really/.

 

Frank knew that there was something wrong the instant Matt appeared out of the corner of his vision. Matt knew not to be so silent around Frank, but tonight it was as if he couldn’t help it. “Somethin’ on your mind?” He busied himself re-wrapping an old wound, tossing the question nonchalantly over his shoulder as if it didn’t really matter whether or not Matt answered it.

 

Matt nodded slowly, frustration and despair marring the baby-smooth lines of his face. Frank had gotten very good at hiding it when something jarred him, but when Matt did this instead of sliding into his “Nope, I’m good, I’m fine” badass-vigilante routine, he had to check himself. His blue eyes flickered softly in the lamplight as he pondered his reply. Matt shuffled his feet, the heavy rubber-bottomed boots scuffing along the pavement as he took a seat on the ammo crate next to him.

 

“I-I give,” Matt breathed at last. Through the red veil of the eye-mask, Frank saw his dark eyes flutter closed. He looked relieved, the features of his face softened and a small puff of white breath escaped into the frosted midnight air. “I give up.”

 

Frank snorted. He bit down on the inside of his lip and chewed before prodding.” What, you mean like you give up chasin’ me down or what?”

 

Matt shook his head. “No, Frank. It’s not about you. It’s about all of it.” His voice broke on the last word, moisture dotting his veiled lashes. He hung his head in his hands and did the one thing Frank had never seen Matt do, had never thought he would do. Matt took off the mask. He slid his red helmet off, revealing his crimped brown hair matted with sweat and dirt. He shook his head and a little speck of blood landed on Frank’s arm.

“Oh, sorry about that.” Matt had, no doubt, heard the microscopic dot splatter against Frank’s skin.

 

“S’okay,” Frank said, his voice softer than usual. He admired those eyes. Two bright pools of raspberry dark chocolate that danced even in the dullest of nights. A long gash ran down his face over purple bruises that bubbled at the surface; more than Frank ever remembered seeing before. He swept a rough, wide thumb over the fissure and Matt gasped, pulling away. “Hurts that bad, huh?”

 

“Go ahead.” Matt looked away, sniffing at the cold air like a blood-hound. “Go ahead and call me a pussy. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue, isn’t it?”

 

“No,” Frank muttered unconfidently. Even though he wasn’t about to say it, that hadn’t stopped him from thinking it, and now that Matt had called him on his own psychology he felt like shit.

 

“That’s fine. Doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.” The helmet clattered to the ground.

 

“HEY.” Frank barked.

 

Matt stiffened. “What?”

 

“You pick that up.”

 

“Don’t need it,” Matt said under his breath, turning his face in the direction of the dilapidated billboard and away from Frank.

 

Frank snorted again and shook his head. “That what you think? You’re---you’re all done, huh? Just like that?”

 

Matt nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, Frank. That’s what I think.”

 

Frank shrugged. “Good, then. More for me. Now you won’t be there to get in my way when I decide to take care of some assholes, /my/way.”

 

“Don’t try the reverse psychology angle on me, Frank. You know my day-job.”

 

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. You’re a hotshot lawyer.”

 

Matt scoffed and shifted uncomfortably on the crate, bearing his defensive grin and raking an injured hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah, that’s it.”

 

“Must be,” Frank continued, relentless. “Yeah, you’re the uh—the lawyer that looks at all those murderous, rapist lying pieces of shit and begs Justice Angel-Soft to take pity on their souls. It’s like that, right? You get down on your knees and plead the case of these low-lifes so you can go cash your fifty-dollar paycheck at the end of the day but you can’t put on your little red long johns and pummel the shit out of them? Give em a little taste of justice? Fuckin’ soft-belly.”

 

Matt launched himself upright, throwing his arms wide. “I can’t do it any more, Frank. You were right? Okay?! You were right. It’s no good. I try and I try and I get back out there only to pull in the same criminals, the same drug-dealers, the same thieves, the same psychopaths, day after day and it never gets better! They just keep coming, Frank!” Matt collapsed again, tears spilling down his cheeks, one even threatening to stain the high collar of his exquisitely tailored red suit. He cupped his face in his hands, shaking all over. “They just…keep coming.” Frank took a long sip of his coffee, one side of his face curling upward into a snarl when he discovered it was cold. “And that’s the other thing, Frank. It’s not even about the bad-guys. It’s about the victims they leave in their wake. They don’t care. They—they don’t give a shit! They take what they want—sex, drugs, money—and they don’t even look back. They just step on them, and sometimes, Frank, sometimes I’m not fast enough. You know that? Sometimes they fall by the wayside or get killed or forgotten. I try to save them, I do. But…” Matt shook his head. “But I just can’t anymore.”

 

Frank started laughing softly and Matt lifted his head, incredulous. “Ya know, that’s the problem with you goody-good types. You’re uh, what they call it? Oh yeah. “Altrusitic.” Looking for accolades. For someone to wake up and start acting like they give a shit, like you. You want, what, a cookie? A star on the calendar? A 20% Off Dairy Queen coupon, is that what you want, Murdock?”

 

Matt shushed him and tilted his head frantically. “Frank—!”

 

“What? I thought you were done. Hell, kid, you’re the one who took off the mask, not me. Without that sorry, cherry-colored Halloween Special on your knobby head you’re just Matt Murdock, paper-shuffling, cane-carrying, cardigan-wearing avocado at law.”

 

“—don’t wear cardigans,” Matt murmured, shamefully wiping at his face.

 

“Hey everybody!,” Frank bellowed out, throwing his hands wide and stomping to the ledge of the rooftop. Light spilled onto his bullet-proof vest, the spray-painted skull glowing like a demonic beacon in the night. “I’ve got Daredevil! He’s even got his mask off! And Daredevil is M---!”

 

Matt lunged, scrambling to wrap his arms around Frank’s thick waist, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Stop it!”

 

If anyone had been watching, they would have made quite the sight. With Matt grappling for control as Frank blurted out slurred versions of Matt’s name, his long, leather-clad legs wrapping around him and shimmying up his midsection, Frank looked not unlike a homicidal jungle gym.

 

“DOREDREVLLL IS MA’AM MURLOCK! DROLLIBBLE IS MAH MIMLAH! Drubbubble in Mom MumhrRrmah!!”

 

“Okay, I get it!,” Matt shouted over Frank’s garble. Frank stopped, his mouth puckering, lungs on the verge of bursting from keeping the laughter in. Matt experimentally uncoiled his fingers before letting go completely, ensuring Frank was, indeed, done trying to spill his alias to the whole city.

 

“Do you?” Frank’s voice returned to its regularly-scheduled smooth, velvety seductiveness as Matt turned in his arms. The tips of Frank’s fingers grazed Matt’s hips, rolling around in soft, circular motions. He smiled as Matt swallowed and his cheeks flushed under the bloody gash. “This here? This is your life.” As they touched foreheads, the sweaty smell became more prevalent and Matt looked older, more tired. “You never stop. No matter how bad it gets. Because someone somewhere needs you. Even if it’s just to kick their ass on the street and leave ‘em chained to some drainage pipe just to do it all over again tomorrow.”

 

Matt laughed softly through his nose, and finally a light broke through. A genuine smile crossed his lips and he blinked those long, thick lashes until the smile reached his distant, staring eyes.

 

“You don’t get to stop. Because you’ve got me. And believe me, Murdock…” Frank scooped up the red helmet from its discarded position and slid it down over his head and into place. “I’m with you every step of the goddamn way.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
